


Run Dry

by costumejail



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dermatillomania, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, One Shot, Polyamory, Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, gee kobra how come the witch lets you have two boyfriends, if this is a vent fic no it isnt, its soft but its not 100 percent fluff, oh and kobras trans i just dont mention it, vaguely?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26876965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/costumejail/pseuds/costumejail
Summary: It's a little too easy for Cherri to get in his head about writing.
Relationships: Agent Cherri Cola/Fun Ghoul/Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Agent Cherri Cola/Kobra Kid (Danger Days)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 24





	Run Dry

**Author's Note:**

> Real quick elaboration on the self harm tag. Cherri engages in a Body-Focused Repetetive Behaviour bc he's stressed and it's a habit for him. I wanted to tag it bc better safe than sorry but its not a super dark fic I promise.

“Fuck,” Cherri muttered under his breath. He tore the page from his notebook, crumpling it and throwing it across the dining room before he could realize what a waste that was. “Shit.”

“Cher,” The Kobra Kid looked up from where he’d been watching the sun sink in the sky. “Y’shiny?”

“Fine.”

Kobes nodded once, resting his chin back on his folded arms, then tipping his head to the side to stare at Cherri. Dark sunglasses blocked Kobes’ eyes, but the pressure of his gaze itched and Cherri looked back down at his notebook in a desperate attempt to pretend Kobes wasn’t seeing right through him. 

With one hand, Cherri scribbled out a stanza. Half of a stanza, the rest of the words wouldn’t come. He pressed the pencil into the page, leaving deep, dark marks that wouldn’t erase. The words still didn’t come. Cherri set the pencil down and laced his fingers, stretching forward, then up, closing his eyes as his shoulder popped. 

“‘M gonna get some water,” Kobes spoke up. He grabbed Cherri’s glass and stood, probably knowing Cherri didn’t have the will to reply. 

While Kobes left the room, Cherri stared at the page, blank but for a few sentences that seemed weaker and weaker, the more Cherri looked at them. Searching for a distraction, Cherri’s gaze drifted to his hands, spread out over the pages, then up his arms. Absently, Cherri drew his fingers over his forearm and over his elbow, pushing his t-shirt sleeve up to his shoulder. One of his scars boasted a small black dot, probably a hair that hadn’t got the message that it would never grow right among years of scar tissue. Cherri dug his nails into the dot, pinching and digging and squeezing until the hair popped free. He ran his fingers over the now-red spot, and down over his shoulder, looking for any other imperfections on his mottled skin. Spots seemed to pop up under his fingers, dots that turned to pairs of red crescents as he picked them off one by one. Cherri turned to his other arm, sweeping up and down it until he found something to pick at, any distraction from the near-blank page looming in front of him. 

“Cher?”

Cherri snapped his head up. Kobes stood in the kitchen doorway, a foil package tucked under one arm and two glasses of water in his hands. His sunglasses had slipped down to the top of his nose and Cherri could see the shock written on his boyfriend’s face. 

“I’m— It’s not—”

“C’mon,” Kobes set down the cups and what Cherri saw was a pack of crackers. He reached for Cherri gently, giving him plenty of time to flinch away, though he didn’t. 

Cherri closed his eyes as Kobra tugged his sleeves down to cover his shoulders, the fabric chafed against burning spots where Cherri had let his impulses get the better of him. Kobes’ cool fingers smoothed over his skin, sending a shiver down Cherri’s spine. Then Kobes tangled his fingers in Cherri’s and tugged. He drew Cherri up and led him to the couch next to the diner’s front door. 

“Talk to me, babe,” urged Kobes. 

“I— It’s not— I don’t know,” Cherri admitted. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them. “The words just aren’t coming out right.”

Kobes hummed, he leaned sideways against the back of the couch, poking at Cherri’s hand until he could slip his own into it.

“I’m— I’ve been trying to work on this piece for weeks and I’ve got it all planned out in my head and then I sit down to write it and it just... disappears. An’ it’s not— It shouldn’t be that difficult. This is what I do. This is _all_ I do.”

“What’s all ya do?” The bell over the door jangled as Fun Ghoul kicked it open, smears of grease decorating his face and one of his braids coming loose. He had a pair of welding goggles pushed up to the top of his head and a smile that made Cherri wish he was wearing his own eye protection, though it faded quickly as he took in the scene. “Alright, _Osito_?”

“Fine.”

“Okay. An’ I’m the Phoenix Witch,” Ghoul tossed his goggles to the side and dropped to sit behind Kobes on the couch. He hooked his chin over Kobes’ shoulder and reached out to tangle his fingers between their entwined hands. “What’s up?”

“Dried out on a poem,” Kobes filled in when Cherri didn’t reply. 

Ghoul hummed.

“It’s stupid! I should be able to just sit down and write it but I can’t and I’m running out of old stuff to read on air even if I stretch it with other writer’s shit and I know the listeners are gonna get sick of it and if I can’t write then what _can_ I do? What’s the point in—”

“Woah, hey hey hey,” Ghoul and Kobes interrupted Cherri at the same time. 

“Go ahead,” Ghoul ceded to Kobes. 

“You’re more than just your writing, you know that. An’ everyone’s got off days.”

Ghoul nodded eagerly.

“But it’s been weeks, Kobes. What if I can’t get back into it?” Cherri’s voice broke and he pressed his forehead to his arms, not wanting to see his boyfriend and his boyfriend look at him with such open care in their faces. 

“It hasn’t been weeks,” murmured Ghoul. “Y’wrote that poem with Girlie three days ago. The one about the lizard that crawled into Pois’s hair?”

“That wasn’t—“

“It was still a poem.”

“And say you’re right,” challenged Kobes. “What? D’y’think we’re gonna kick you out because you stopped writing?”

“No,” Cherri replied sulkily. 

“Good,” Cherri looked up to see Ghoul smiling gently. “If you stopped brushing your teeth then maybe. But writing’s not why we keep you ‘round. It’s just a bonus track.”

Cherri’s eyes burned. He dropped his face back down to his arms and groaned. 

“I know, I know, but—“

“No buts,” Kobes interrupted. “C’mere.”

Cherri let Kobes pull him into his lap, he wrapped his arms around Kobes’ neck and rested his head against his shoulder. Ghoul moved into Cherri’s now-vacant spot and rubbed Cherri’s shoulders slowly, pressing the occasional kiss to the back of his neck. 

“We love you, it’s okay to take a break from your poems, and it’s okay to ask for help.”

Cherri nodded, not bothering to point out the hypocrisy of Ghoul telling him to ask for help. 

“And it’s okay to be stressed, too,” Kobes added. “‘S long as you’re not destructive about it.”

“Sorry,” whispered Cherri. 

Rather than reply, Kobes pressed a kiss into Cherri’s hair. He lingered there for a moment, breathing slowly, giving Cherri a rhythm to relax against his chest to. 

“Love you.”

In sync again, Ghoul and Kobes replied, “Love you, too.”

* * *

Two weeks later, Cherri sat down between Kobes and Ghoul, pulling his notebook out and opening it to a blank page. The words didn’t come easily, but they came. Every now and then, one of his partners would look over, humming in approval or giving Cherri’s arm a reassuring squeeze when his grip on the pencil tightened too much. But for the most part, they let him be. Cherri set the poem down when it was half-finished but he was done for the night, knowing that his words would be there the next evening, and so would the people that inspired them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Osito = Teddy bear, basically
> 
> Thanks for reading! You know the drill, comments, kudos, come chat with me on [tumblr!](sleevesareforlosers.tumblr.com)


End file.
